


oh, there you are

by bastardbones



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Coercion, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Manipulation, Misandry, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardbones/pseuds/bastardbones
Summary: Kiyotaka Ishimaru will be the only boy she sends to heaven.
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka & Celestia Ludenberg, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 144





	oh, there you are

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the part where Celeste lies about Taka abusing her and photographing it. I wanted to go deeper with this idea, but worried I wouldn't complete it. I'd rather make short fics than unfinished ones.

Celestia Ludenburg believes there is nothing worse than a weak man, _and this is why:_

A weak man is a useless man. A weak man cannot serve, he cannot protect, nor can he carry his own weight and Celestia despises this. Any ridiculous man is idolized, respected, and adored with twice the ferocity of a fully realized woman and Celestia detests that. She only wishes everyone saw it the way she did, wished every woman would scowl back with anger, demand their dues. Now here she is, trapped in an inescapable hell, nothing like the castle she's dreamt of, surrounded by women who don't know their worth, and the thing that's almost worse than men.

Boys.

Boys are tragic, because all boys become men, they are destined to it, doomed to it. She could pity them if she weren't so disgusted. Here's the thing — some boys transform into men before others, sometimes it's a gradual shift, but oftentimes it is a fast, violent transformation. Like when a boy spikes a girl's drink at a party, he becomes a man overnight. Or when a boy hits a girl across the face, he becomes a man instantaneously. Once a boy becomes a man, is he irredeemable. No amount of groveling can exonerate him, no words or actions can erase the generational pain his kind have inflicted onto the universe. It would be perverse to forgive him.

The moment Kiyotaka Ishimaru opens his mouth, Celestia decides he will never be a man. She decides to keep him a boy forever, _and this is why:_

She has never seen a boy her own age cry so openly. She thought boys didn't cry, not that they couldn't, or wouldn't, but rather, they simply did _not._ That was the golden rule, the gospel, the crux of the male ego. This myth that was passed down from son to son, that few dared defy. It was as unfortunate as it was hilarious, that so many lived their lives clutching to this concept. Not crying was a display of strength, a badge of honor, a test to be endured, no matter the hardship. Kiyotaka Ishimaru had apparently missed the memo. He was a crybaby.

She could have dismissed him as an average hard-ass, with all the schedule keeping and rule abiding. The kind of guy that deserved nothing more than a glance and a yawn. She observed him behind a cup of tea, as if he were a new book she purchased, creamy white pages begging to be dog-eared. She noticed it then, the way his leg bounced beneath the table, the way he double knotted the laces of his boots. He anticipated failure. The fear of failure had made a bitch of him.

She knew the name Ishimaru. Her classmates made no mention of it, either from courtesy or ignorance, but she knew. Kiyotaka held a burden that was not his own, rather, the shame was inherited and followed him wherever he went. It sat with him at the cafeteria table, as he anxiously bounced his leg beneath it, until Mondo barked at him to stop.

Mondo Owada was not a man. He masqueraded as one, with the muscles and attitude, but that was only dress up. Mondo was a dog, plain and simple, _and this is why:_

When she looked at Mondo she saw a face that had seen death. A face that had not orchestrated it, but was a victim to it. Mondo was a victim of emotion. His anger was complex and controlling, overshadowing rational thought. Dogs think with emotion and cannot make executive decisions without leadership. So no matter how hard he tried, he was a phony, a dog in the suit of a man, in the suit of a boy. However, dogs, unlike men, can serve, and they can protect. In no time at all, Mondo became Kiyotaka's dog.

She watches how a clap on the shoulder escalates from platonic to something more, how the touch lingers. How Mondo keeps testing the limits, always hovering, always near, so needy for contact. Kiyotaka is visibly overwhelmed, he trembles with a mixture of happiness and anxiety, because how else can he react? Overlooked his entire life before finally, finally making a friend, one that grabs his waist when no one should be looking, one that sneaks into his bedroom late at night, doing the things boys usually don't do with each other. Celestia doesn't know whether to be repulsed or amused, but she must decide, so she decides to laugh, _and this is why:_

"Good morning, Kiyotaka," she greets, the first to join him in the cafeteria.

"Please just call me Taka," he says without looking at her. If she didn't know better, his demeanor could be mistaken for arrogance, but he is not arrogant.

"You can look at me," she teases. She offers her best smile, the one she rehearses in the bathroom mirror.

"Looking directly at a lady is considered rude!" he objects.

She stares at him, but his resolve is air tight as he offers less than a glance. He shouldn't be hard to convince. She grabs his face, dragging her clawed finger along his cheek, slowly, convincingly.

"I want you to look at me."

Slowly, he blinks down at her, finding no argument now. She half expects his face to flush red, being so close to a girl, mere inches apart, but all he does is look. They stare at each other until Mondo rolls in, surprisingly early, and stammers until his canine brain can find the words.

Taka retreats with Mondo to the 2nd floor sometime after. Mondo makes no attempt to hide his urge, his hand is down Taka's pants and all the boy can do is weakly wrestle against it, too drunk on the feeling, despite the fear of being caught. She has already found them out, she was the first to know, once again watching from an unseen corner. Taka hides his face, now entirely flushed, in the space between Mondo's neck and shoulder. He whimpers loudly, speaks in gibberish, and it's all lovesick nonsense that means nothing to Celestia and everything to Mondo. She watches how Taka's knees tremble, on the verge of collapse, until he finally goes still for one blissful moment, then shakes uncontrollably in the aftershock.

The honeymoon ends when finally, Mondo is put down like the animal he is, cremated down to dust and fat. Taka weeps and she suspects he may never stop. He sobs on the floor until his classmates decide it's time to move on, but he refuses to budge, fingernails cracking as he's dragged away. He screams and wails and it's like nothing Celestia has ever heard before. He is completely delirious, all snot and tears, running down an ugly, twisted face.

Just when she thought the crying would never stop, it does. She finds him on the staircase, staring at nothing, and when she waves her hand, there is no response. She ventures further, placing her palm on his thigh, giving her best attempt at a reassuring touch, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't blink. She checks for his pulse.

"Come with me," she says, tone deceptively kind. "I'll make it better."

She takes his hand, but he remains motionless. She tries pulling him to his feet, unsuccessfully. This must be what moving a dead body feels like. She does well to remember it, _and this is why:_

When the night time announcement is made, he rises, robotically, and begins walking toward his room. It's unnerving to witness, even for her. She trots behind him before catching up, then uses her body as a physical barrier. His boots click to a halt.

"Come with me," she says again, steering him to her bedroom before any of her classmates can intervene. "Sit."

He sits on the edge of her bed. It is the first time a boy has been in her bed, since, well — this is the first time. She doesn't allow boys to get this close, but Taka is harmless, harmless as he's ever been, and really, _he_ should be afraid of _her._ She could kill him right now and he would hardly be a participant in his own death. How far could she shove a sewing needle in his neck before he reacted? How much could she hurt him before he cried?

"Taka," she hums, all sweet and rosy, "I want you to take your clothes off."

Surprisingly, he turns to her. The red beneath his eyes is almost purple, still swollen from crying. She sees another tear about to form and dabs it with her sleeve.

"Are you going to kill me now?" He doesn't sound afraid. It's just a question and he asks it.

"Not yet."

"Okay," his gaze flicks downward. She tilts his chin up and gives a playful squeeze before releasing him.

With a shaky hand, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a patchwork of hickeys from his neck and throughout his torso. Some are fresh, but most are fading and will soon be gone forever. He hugs himself in an attempt at hiding, ashamed of the marks on his body.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, in a voice that hardly belongs to him. It's the voice of a little boy that knows what he did was wrong.

"It's okay," she lies. Nothing is okay. She holds his face in her hands and he melts into her warm, unexpected embrace. "You're such a good boy, Taka."

"I am?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yes," she promises. She gently coaxes him out of his pants. "You'll always be good."

Naked on the bed, he is completely defenseless, and it reminds Taeko of herself from a long time ago, of her own defenselessness. The only difference is that Taka has surrendered entirely, unlike her, who fights tooth and nail until the very end. Even now, she cannot feel sorry for him. Some players have the cards stacked against them since birth and she believes Taka, ever the poster child, is a shining example, _and this is why:_

"Why?" he echoes, voice nearly lost beneath the sharp click of her digital camera. She takes a moment of pause, pretending to consider his question, as if it holds any weight, any value at all. She snaps her next piece of blackmail and shrugs.

"Because."


End file.
